A Rose of Metal
by Snowlia
Summary: Charlotte believes Henry has no affections for her, and a dejected Henry is determined to prove her wrong. Henry/Charlotte. Mild Lemon.


A/N: So Henry is pretty much the second coolest ginger in fiction (after Cassidy O'Rourke) and the second coolest character in all of Cassandra Clare's world (after Alec), and I absolutely adore him. There were, however, no fanfictions about him, or Charlotte and since they are such a precious couple I decided to write one. This is meant to be a cute romance story, but since they are married, there will be sex ahead. Just so everyone is aware.

Thanks to Blodwedd for editing this as always.

Disclaimer: I am not Cassandra Clare and do not own The Infernal Devices.

Charlotte ran her hands through her hair in agitation. The papers spread out before her on her desk were all starting to blur together as one and she really couldn't tell the difference anymore. Nor did she really care at the moment if she was honest. More important things plagued her mind, or rather more personal things to which work just wasn't distracting enough.

With a heavy sigh she let her hands fall to the desk, scrambling the papers slightly. She wondered for a moment how much satisfaction she would get from just tossing the papers across the room and weighed it against the annoyance of having to pick them all up.

"Mrs. Branwell?"

Charlotte looked up in surprise; she hadn't even noticed Sophie enter the room. "Hello Sophie," she greeted quickly, trying to smooth down the mess she had made of her hair.

"I brought you some tea Ma'am, you looked like you could use some, if you don't mind me saying." She smiled timidly, her scar pulling taught with the gesture. As she always did, Charlotte felt that quick stab of pity before it retreated just as quickly.

"Thank-you, I do." She lifted a cup off of the silver tray, pressing the rim to her lips and taking a deep swallow. The liquid flowed easily down her throat, warming her from the inside out and she felt her muscles relax reflexively. A small sigh escaped her before she allowed her eyes to flicker open and peer down at the documents still before her.

"Is everything alright Ma'am?" Sophie hadn't moved, still stood where she was, tray held aloft and expression soft. Charlotte felt, not for the first time, that Sophie was more her sister than her servant.

"Yes, I'm fine," she assured with a smile, hoping it seemed genuine. Sophie didn't move though, just stood there, expression still the same and eyes sharp.

A moment passed before Charlotte finally gave in, slouching down in her chair. "I don't know Sophie," she took a moment to collect her thoughts as Sophie set the tray down and sat in the wooden chair across the desk from her. "I just don't know what I'm doing."

"You're doing a fine job Ma'am, everyone knows so," Sophie reassured softly.

Charlotte laughed a little. "I don't think everyone, but thank-you Sophie."

"What's going on Mrs. Branwell, what's got you so bothered?"

Charlotte titled her head back, staring at the ceiling as if it held the answers. "The Enclave is against me, they all think I'm going to fail."

"Mr. Wayland doesn't."

"He is alone. And they all attack poor Henry so viciously." A fresh wave of pain pounded against Charlotte's heart. She hated it when they were so mean to Henry. "He does his best, and his best is very good...sometimes," she added quietly.

"Mr. Branwell is an excellent man," Sophie nodded, eyes earnest. "He is just a bit…hapless, sometimes, if I may. Not that that is always a bad thing though."

Charlotte smiled in spite of herself. "Yes, I suppose." She blew a strand of hair out of her face in an undignified manner. "And then I am in charge of all of you inside of the Institute. Please do not misunderstand me, I love and adore all of you, but sometimes it's difficult." She looked up to find Sophie looked rather abashed, as if she had personally done something wrong and Charlotte jumped quickly to correct it. "Not you, though, Sophie. And I mean that honestly. You give me no trouble, nor does Jem. Though I must admit that he weighs heavily on my mind much of the time as well."

"As he does on us all," the serving girl whispered quietly, eyes trained on the floor. Charlotte regretted bringing up the matter before Sophie. She wasn't stupid after all; she could see the way Sophie looked at Jem, even if it was a rather subtle infatuation.

"Or Tessa. She is easy as well, but I wish I could help her in any way. It must be hard for her, all of this…

"Will and Jessie are another matter though," she continued on, trying not to dwell on matters at which she had no control, not that she had any control over any of them really. "I feel as if they are my children most of the time, minus the part where they love me of course."

"I think they do Miss. Or at least in their own way," Sophie conceded. "They are not the loving type really."

Charlotte was hardly listening; really only taking comfort in the sound of Sophie's voice, in knowing that at least one person cared to listen. "So you see my problem Sophie. I am running an Institute that no one thinks I can handle, I am under close watch of the Enclave who is waiting for me to fail, I am looking after a group of children as if their mother, two of which hate me, one is dying and one is at an emotional crossroads and I can help none of them and I am married to a man who has not a single affection for me and would rather spend a week examining a woman made of metal than spend five minutes with his hands on me." She finished quickly and in a huff.

Sophie's face had gone bright red. Charlotte crossed her arms across her chest, looking past her to the wall. That last bit hadn't really been meant for her to hear, and while Charlotte could feel her own face burning with embarrassment at airing such personal feelings as she had, it felt good to say. "I'm sorry," she murmured finally, looking back to the papers to let Sophie know she was dismissed. "Please disregard anything I just said."

"Ma'am, I don't think Mr. Branwell feels that way."

"Please don't lie to me Sophie," Charlotte was shocked to find her voice shaking. And what was the pressure behind her eyes for? "I know quite well how he feels and so does everyone else." Tears were certainly not necessary right now. It was a silly thing to be so upset about. She took a breath and a small noise like a gasp escaped. Horrified she took her lip quickly between her teeth, widening and blinking her eyes rapidly to dispel the moisture.

"Oh Charlotte." Sophie dropped all pretenses and was by her side, an arm thrown around her shoulder. "Please don't cry, it will be alright. I am sure he cares for you."

"Henry cares for everyone," Charlotte managed, sounding almost normal again. "But I do not believe he cares for me anymore than anyone else."

A noise in the doorway made both women start and look up in surprise. Charlotte felt her stomach drop and face burn in shame and regret instantly. Henry stood just inside the door, a strip of metal covered in dials and knobs hung forgotten in his left hand as he stared at Charlotte. His big eyes were pained beneath his bright ginger hair. The expression on his face just about shattered her heart, he looked like a puppy who had come looking to play and instead been kicked across the room.

"Oh Henry." She reached out, rising to her feet but he was turning, head down and shoulders slumped as he slunk out of the room. For a moment she just stood there, not wanting to follow him, but not knowing what else to do. "Oh Angel," she whispered staring after him. "What have I done?"

xxxxxxxxxxx

The day passed in no more brio than it had begun, with Charlotte trying to do paperwork that she couldn't focus on and nothing but guilt and sadness in her throat. She shouldn't have said what she had about Henry, she knew. Even if he hadn't overheard, it wasn't right for her to speak ill of him. He was a wonderful man, and she was very fortunate to be married to him, even if he didn't love her.

She sighed again, eyes burning as she stared down at the papers. It had been hours since the incident with Henry, and she had hardly left the room save for a trip or two to the water closet and once to the kitchen. If asked she would say it was because she was busy, though inside she knew it was because she didn't want to risk running into Henry.

What a terrible wife she was, insulting her husband behind his back and then not having the courage to apologize for it. In fact, she was a terrible Shadowhunter as well for her cowardice. She winced as she pictured Henry as he likely was now, sulking about with wounded feelings in the crypt. Though, he did love it down there, perhaps he had gone back to work and forgotten all about her. That seemed likely, Henry wasn't one to hold a grudge or worry about something for long. He was resilient that way.

A look at the clock told her she had been at this too long and that she was due for some sleep, but still she was reluctant. She should really apologize to Henry, even if it was likely he had forgotten about it. A selfish part of her didn't want to apologize though, and was angry at the idea of him forgetting. This was her pain, and she wished he would feel it. Quickly she pushed away those selfish desires, not everything could be about her after all.

With a quiet sigh of suffering she shuffled what remaining papers she had left, sitting them neatly on the side of the desk before rising to head begrudgingly towards her and Henry's bedroom. Maybe she took a few extra turns down some unnecessary halls to waste some time before finally arriving at the door. It was mocking her. She wasn't sure how a door could be mocking, but this one was definitely insulting her.

Taking the plunge she opened the door quickly and without thinking. A swift and breathless scan of the dark room told her what she had hoped; Henry was nowhere in sight. With a prayer of thanks to the Angel she closed the door behind her and undressed, slipping into her nightgown by the light of the moon. She went through her nighttime routine stiffly, eyes trained to the door for the moment Henry would walk in and she would be forced to confront him about her earlier slip-up.

But as she slid under the covers there was still no sign of her husband. And as she lay there silent and tense with worry and the minutes began to tick by Henry still did not appear. Her conscious was heavier than it ever had been before. She burrowed her face into her pillow, the bed smelled of soap and there was a distinct scent of flowers; she didn't know how Sophie managed it, but it always smelled lovely. Though Sophie scrubbed and cleaned as best she could, she could never get out the faint smell of oil and steel that still remained, left by Henry after hours in the lab. She would apologize to Charlotte profusely, but secretly Charlotte loved the smell as it reminded her of him.

Inhaling deeply she knew where Henry was, and knew what she had to do. She had to go drag him out of the lab and up to bed with her or he would be there all night. The thought stung her eyes. It hadn't been a lie when she said he would rather spend a week with a woman of metal than five minutes with her. But was it really so awful, being with her that was? Did he detest her so much that she was going to have to physically drag him up to bed with her?

Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut tightly, letting the few droplets of moisture be pushed out between her lids and stain the pillow. There was no time for self-pity, she told herself as she sat up and withdrew the covers. Finding a suitable robe so as not to go too indecently, she set about the confidence draining task of luring Henry up from the crypt.

This time she didn't waste time going down random halls and taking long ways. She went straight there, just wanting to get it over with and move on. Falling asleep and letting the day start clean again just sounded like the best of ideas, even if nothing really would be different tomorrow.

Pushing aside the heavy door to the crypt gave her more pleasure than she would have expected. The use of energy and force made her feel just the slightest bit better. Perhaps tomorrow she would train for a few hours and work out her stress and anger and sorrow. Her footsteps echoed on each step as she passed flickering torches set on the walls. At the bottom she pulled open another door and stood in entryway, suddenly pausing in her mission.

Across the wide room stood Henry, his back to her as he moved his hands about, working on something sitting on a desk. She did this often, came down to get him, told him it was time that he come up. He rarely didn't comply, just came quietly, yet reluctantly.

Tonight though, when she opened her mouth to say those words that she did almost every other day, they wouldn't come. She closed her mouth, just watching in silence as Henry moved about, his long coat brushing the floor and bright hair flecked with dirt.

"Is it really so awful?" She asked finally, voice quiet but loud enough for him to hear.

Startled he whirled around, eyes wide and mouth open.

"Sleeping with me, that is?" She hadn't meant for the words to come out, but now she couldn't stop nor regret them. "I always have to drag you up, almost every night." She paused, focusing on the wall behind him. Upon it hung a sundry of tools and pieces of equipment, the purposes of which she couldn't begin to fathom. Exhaling quietly she looked back to him. "If you don't want to come up, you don't have to. Just please get some sleep sometime…somewhere." Without a backward glance she was headed back up the stairs, still unsure where her sudden bravado had come from, but feeling rather empowered nonetheless.

"Charlotte!" Henry called her name but she didn't stop. "Charlotte wait!" There was a clamor from behind her and something metal fell to the ground. Shoes squeaked rapidly across the floor and then Henry was rushing past her, turning to block her way out. He held up his hands, his eyes were still wide and there was a smudge of dirt across his face. Charlotte resisted the urge to reach up and brush it off.

"Wait," he instructed again.

Charlotte said nothing but watched him, waiting for him to say something.

For a moment he only stood there, looking flustered. He opened his mouth, and then closed it, and then twice more. His head dropped in defeat. Gently he grabbed her arms and turned around a very confused Charlotte, leading her back into the lab. He released her one elbow and in a rather out of character gesture, ran his other hand down her arm and laced their fingers together as he pulled her through the lab.

At his bench he let her go and lifted something up, it was what he had been working on when she arrived. A bit bashfully he handed it over to her, arm outstretched and head inclined to the floor. It was a long golden stick made out of metal, two circular pieces jutting off of it and a pod at the top that was large at the base and tapered off into a tip.

She held it in her hands for a moment, unsure what he wanted from her.

"Here," he whispered, reaching in and grabbing one of the circles. He turned it to the right quickly and as he did, the pod opened up, the point parting in all directions to extend outward. Inside of the pod more pieces followed suit, all opening and layering over each other until it was completely opened.

A blooming rose made completely out of metal.

She gave a silent gasp in awe. "What is it?"

"It's a flower."

In spite of herself she smiled. "Well I can see that, I mean, what does it do?"

She looked up at him as his face began to redden. "Oh, uh, well…nothing really. Just that. I…I made it for you."

Charlotte's eyes widened against her will as he smiled timidly back at her, like they were school children and he had just given a wildflower to her to show that he fancied her. In shock she stared down at the rose, it really was beautiful, certainly the most wonderful thing she had ever been given.

"I…I don't know what to say; thank-you." And then the guilt came rushing back. All of the things she had said about him earlier and again just now to him, and here he was making such a sweet thing for her. She felt wretched, again like she had just kicked a puppy. And in fact, even after she had kicked him he only wanted to make her happy. She closed her eyes tight, clutching the metal flower in her hands for strength. "Angel, Henry, I'm so sorry. All the things I said, I didn't mean them. I'm so, so sorry."

His hands encompassed hers as he took them in his own. He was leaning forward, nose bumping hers before he brought their lips together in a kiss. Charlotte's skin was on fire as he moved his lips against hers. So rarely did he kiss her that she relished every second that he broke character and treated her like this.

"Don't be sorry," he told her as they broke apart "and don't lie. You did mean those things I know." He looked down at the floor, his face a mask of guilt and shame. "I'm not a very good husband," he whispered.

Charlotte felt her own heart give a thump of guilt. "No, no," she cooed, one hand reaching up to stroke his face. He leaned into the touch instead of pulling away. "You're a wonderful husband. I am glad I married you," she told him.

He smiled sadly back. "I pray to the Angel that is not a lie." He searched her face for a moment. "I love you Charlotte, you have to know that, don't you?" It was more of a plea than a question.

She hesitated for just a second before she assured him she knew, but it only took a second for him to see that she was lying.

His lips parted and eyes went wide in pain. "Angel Charlotte I am so sorry." He pressed his forehead to hers and Charlotte found she had nothing to say. "It's not awful going to bed with you. It has nothing to do with you. I-I just get caught up in my work sometimes. It's not you. It's not you." Henry had his fingers in her hair, pulling and rubbing, begging her to believe him as she rested her head against his shoulder. Only the flower stood between them.

"I know," she whispered.

He shook his head. "No, no you don't." She felt his neck move as he swallowed. "I love you Charlotte. And I have all the affection in the world for you. I'm just…I'm just not good at showing it." His head rested against hers and his fingers continued through her hair. "There is never a time when I regret being with you. Never a time when I am with you and wish I was somewhere else.

"I'm so sorry Charlotte, if I make you feel like you're alone. I don't mean to, I'm just no good with…feelings and such."

"I know."

He sighed into her hair, obviously unsatisfied with her response. "I love you Charlotte, I love you so much I can't tell you," he whispered. "And I am sorry you are stuck with me. I'm sorry you have to clean up everything I do with the enclave. I'm sorry you have to deal with the ridicule of having me as a husband. And I'm sorry I can't give you the affection you deserve." He trailed off, voice quiet and wavering and his shoulders slumped dejectedly.

Charlotte's heart was hammering in her chest. Henry so rarely spoke personally to her, even more rarely did he touch her. What was she to say? What was there to say? She pulled back to look him in the eye and see if maybe that would spark her brain back in to function. Maybe if she saw his face she would find she had something to say.

His face was as pitiful and open as it had ever been. Every ounce of guilt and honesty was playing across his features and Charlotte found herself whipping away the dirt upon his cheek and running the pads of her fingers across his light stubble rather than thinking of a response. She said nothing still as she pulled him closer, bringing their mouths together again in a kiss that quickly turned fiercer than the last one.

Charlotte stumbled back as Henry pressed harder against her, unbalancing her. He grabbed her hips hard, holding her steady and pulling them together. She winced as the metal flower dug into her chest. Quickly he pulled back and gently pried the flower from her unwilling fingers. She watched with slight regret as he placed the flower down on the counter but soon forgot when his lips were back on hers.

Her fingers stretched through his hair, pulling gently and massaging his scalp. More or less, they were there to make sure he didn't completely knock her over. His mouth moved hard against hers, opening quickly and pressing his tongue in the slight space between her parted lips.

She gasped in surprise, moving her tongue to meet his. Charlotte kissed back with everything she had, relishing in his sudden passion.

Henry's hand was tracing lower on her hip, his fingers running across the back of her thigh. Charlotte tried and failed to suppress a shiver at the alien touch. His other hand was moving up, along the curve of her side and fingers splaying across her stomach and back in exploring and teasing patterns. She was unable to continue kissing him as he continued his soft and innocent explorations of her. With a soft sigh she broke off and buried her face against his neck, breathing a little faster than normal.

"Henry…stop," she asked of him quietly, knowing he had no idea what he was doing to her now and was unable to take this torture much longer.

His fingers didn't move from her, but slowed in their progress making small circles. "Why?" He breathed back. Charlotte's hands dug into his shoulders where they had rested since traveling from his hair. Her teeth ground together in annoyance. Henry's voice was as innocent as ever, and when she titled her head back to look at his face she found nothing but calm composure. There was none of the breathless desire she was feeling boiling inside of her and doubtlessly spilling over onto her features. Her fingers were quivering, literally using him to hold herself up and he was completely composed.

A hot wave of embarrassment flooded her, along with a bit of disappointment. But what had she been expecting? Her mind followed her own thought, wandering into even more embarrassing and very un-lady like thoughts. A bright flush burned her cheeks and she turned away, out of his embrace. It suddenly seemed easier to breathe now that he wasn't blocking her, though it was so much colder.

"Nothing." Was that even an answer to the question he had asked? "Never mind." Maybe that was more fitting. "It's late, we should go to bed."

She made to move, to take a step away so she could no longer feel the heat radiating off of him, but he stopped her with a hand to her side. "Stay here," he whispered against her ear before moving past her.

Unsure of what to do, she simply watched as he crossed the laboratory, disappearing up the steps. A moment passed and she heard the light resounding boom of the door at the top of the steps being closed. And then Henry reappeared on the steps, stopping just inside of the crypt before turning and closing the second door, the one always left open.

"What did you do that for?" She asked as he returned to her. His face was flushed, and he was having difficulty tearing his gaze away from the floor.

He stopped only when there was hardly an inch of space left between them; his lips brushed her forehead when he spoke. "I-I'm sorry-"

"Stop apologizing!" She chided him gently with an eye-roll. "You've already said it enough times for both of our lives. And I have told you, there is nothing to apologize for."

His hands were clutching hers again and she marveled at the way they fit together, running thumbs across his knuckles. She felt his lips curve into a smile against her forehead and she resisted the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl talking to a fit boy. The smile stretching across her face couldn't be helped however.

"You didn't let me finish," he accused.

"I don't want to hear it," she snapped back playfully.

"I'm sorry I'm not a very good husband." It all came out in a quick rush so she couldn't put a stop to it.

She groaned quietly, half out of annoyance and half out of guilt. "Henry," she looked him in the eye "I swear, I didn't mean those things. I've just been stressed and upset and I took it out on you, and I'm sorry and…"

Henry was shaking his head, red hair flashing in the lamplight. "No, no, I am a bad husband. Because I haven't been…" He trailed off, searching for the right word and now deliberately refusing to meet her eye again. His face was slowly darkening in color.

"Haven't been what?" Charlotte prodded.

He leaned in close, a nervous laugh escaping his lips before she felt them pressed against her ear. "Performing my…husbandly duties."

"What are you…" and then Charlotte's breath hitched in her throat as his words struck their meaning. "Oh," she whispered, half a gasp. Her voice was mysteriously missing as Henry's lips pressed against her neck.

"How-how long has it been?" He only stuttered like that when he was really worked up, and usually that was only in front of her.

She didn't need clarification on what he was asking about. "Uhh…I'm not sure," she told him honestly, blood boiling beneath her skin. His fingers were running along the fabric of her nightdress again, trailing teasingly along her hip. "A few weeks maybe?"

It was so seldom that Henry was physical with her, and far be it from her to be much of an instigator. Shadowhunter or not, Charlotte was still a lady when it came to matters of sexuality. Never would she admit how much she wished he would exercise his rights as her husband in the bedroom more often. It was a rare occurrence; one that often happened after the lights were out and they were both lying in bed ready for sleep. She could never tell him the spark that ran through her when those nights arose; when his hand would be on her suddenly, gently and experimentally, asking for permission. Henry was not much for cuddling, and she always knew instantly what he was asking of her. As of yet she had never denied him.

As she lay back, England was always the last thing on her mind.

"Too long." His fingers dug into her skin and she arched involuntarily into him. Without warning he was crouching down, eye level with her thigh, and running his fingers underneath her gown and pulling it up.

"Henry!"

He was straightened up again and had gotten it almost to her hips before she grabbed his hands, a slight of panic quickly gripping her in a cold grasp. Her hands were shaking as she grabbed his, forcing them down.

Henry paused, looking a little confused and just a tad hurt. "What?"

Charlotte felt her jaw go slack and eyes widen. "What do you mean what? Stop it!" She pushed again on his hands and he released a bit more of her gown.

His look of hurt didn't quite leave his face and Charlotte found herself feeling guilty again, but not quite sure why.

"So…you don't…want to?" Henry's face was bright red and expression crestfallen.

"No, it's not…It's just…"

"Do you," Henry paused a moment again, staring off the walls as if they held the words he was searching for "like it?" He looked more awkward than ever, finishing his sentence off lamely and seeming as if he wished he had worded it differently.

It took Charlotte a minute to process what he was asking. "Oh!" She gasped. Her hands were on his face, forcing him to look at her. "I love being with you Henry." With a will power she didn't quite know she possessed she forced herself not to look away as the blush burned her face, embarrassment at her own statement making her stomach curl.

Henry looked genuinely surprised, not in the least daunted by her openness, but rather by the fact that she enjoyed being with him. "Really?" His voice raised a pitch and Charlotte fought back a giggle, covering it with a quick kiss.

"Yes."

The corner of his lip curled up in a lopsided smile and then he was pulling her gown up again.

"Stop that!"

"Why?" Henry drug out the sound in what was dangerously close to a whine.

Charlotte stared at him incredulously. "Henry. We are in the middle of your lab, not the bedroom!" She scolded.

He rolled his eye unconcerned. "It's the middle of the night; no one even comes down to my lab during the day." He pulled her gown up more, revealing her slip and bare calves and pausing just as the edges of her nightdress tickled the area where leg met hips.

Charlotte's breath was coming in quick bursts, her blood rushing too fast by a rapidly beating heart. She swallowed harshly as she searched his face. Henry's smirk reached his eyes, a look he rarely had but one she had seen before. Uncertainly she threw a look over her shoulder at the closed door, weighing the consequences of someone catching them in a state no one should ever see them in. The idea sent an odd sort of unwelcome thrill through her.

And suddenly she found her eyes shutting and mouth parting in a gasp as Henry delicately but assertively assaulted her outstretched neck with lips and teeth.

"Henry," she whispered, half in defeat as he pushed aside her robe, easing it over her shoulders. Impatiently Charlotte nudged him away so she could finish it, letting the robe slip from her shoulders and down her arms to pool at her feet on the floor.

Instantly the chill of the crypt hit her, rising goose bumps on her arms. Before she had time to react, Henry was pulling her gown over her hips and up over her chest, forcing her arms out to pull it over her head. He dropped it to the floor unceremoniously.

Charlotte shivered as his eyes roamed over her, though it had little to do with the cold. In only her slip she felt horribly exposed and without quite meaning too, brought a hand delicately to her chest. His arms wrapped around her, completely encompassing her in his grasp. He kissed her hair and face furiously, hands roaming over her in a way that made her tremble and her breath shake.

"Angel," Henry's voice was a shaking whisper against her ear "how did I get so fortunate?"

She nuzzled her face against his neck, kissing wherever she could. His fingers roamed under her slip, bunching it up.

Her blood rose, or rather lowered, gathering heat between her legs and in her stomach. "I'm not wearing anything under my slip," she confessed.

Henry's moan came suddenly and loudly out of nowhere. He shuddered hard and breathed out "Angel," before letting his head drop to her shoulder. His reaction caused her blush to deepen but she couldn't fight down the small smirk growing upon her face.

After a moment's pause Henry resumed hiking up her slip and pulled it up past her thighs and over her hips, then her stomach, her chest and then her shoulders, head and arms. It was tossed aside to fall upon discarded nightgown. Charlotte was trembling openly, reaching behind her to grasp the table to hold herself steady as she stood before him completely naked.

She had nothing to be nervous or shy about, she told herself. After all, Henry was her husband. It wasn't their first time having sex nor was it his first time seeing her naked. However, on almost every other occasion she could recall, there had been no light save for the moon or perhaps a low burning candle and never could she remember ever standing so brazenly and bare before him like this.

Charlotte couldn't look Henry in the eye as he leaned back and looked her up and down, eyes wide.

At least a minute passed before Charlotte's flaming skin could no longer take the staring. "Have you had enough yet? Or should you like to draw me?" She quipped good-humouredly.

"If you are unopposed to the idea of your likeness being captured I must say I am no good with art, but I do have a camera here, and I would certainly love a picture." Henry ran his fingers down her bare sides, tracing the curves. Charlotte laughed breathlessly, partially because it tickled and partially because of his idea. Her stomach twisted in an odd sort of way as she was pretty certain he was only half joking.

"There will be no indecent pictures of me, Henry."

His fingers traced lower, clutching her hips. "I wouldn't show anyone," he assured "I swear by the Angel they would only be mine." His smile was teasing, but Charlotte still knew he was really pitching the idea.

"No." She told him firmly and he smiled brightly.

"As you wish."

His mouth was on her collarbone, kissing and nipping across the top of her chest and shoulder. Her head rolled placidly to the side to give him more room. She shuddered hard and leaned fully against the table as Henry's hands moved from her hips and over her stomach, making the muscles twitch and jump. Then they were traveling higher, up her torso until his palms moved across her breasts.

Whether she was sweating, he was or it was a combination Charlotte wasn't sure, but the skin was damp wherever they touched. Henry's palm slid under her breast, pushing up and fingers rubbing circles in the skin. With a determination she didn't know she possessed she closed her mouth, breathing heavily through her nose and muffling her undignified whimpers. She felt almost useless, just standing there complacently beneath Henry's mouth and hands. If he minded though, he didn't seem to show it.

His kisses traveled upwards, across her shoulder and neck and cheek, to finally find her lips again. Tongues met for a brief second before Henry pulled away quite suddenly. Charlotte gasped at the sudden exposure to the cold and threw her arms around herself without thinking. Confused and curious she watched him lean down and retrieve her fallen robe, picking it up and draping it around her shoulders. Still unsure but willing to comply she put her arms back through the sleeves.

"Do you want to continue this in the bedroom?" She asked, trying to guess his motives.

Henry's responding kiss was rough and fast, leaving Charlotte wide-eyed and breathless. "I can't wait for the bedroom."

His hands were on her rump, grasping her hard through the thin fabric of the overcoat. Charlotte gasped, arching closer to him before his fingers moved down over the smooth fabric, stopping on the backs of her thighs before digging in and pulling up. She threw her arms around him instinctively as he lifted her up, placing her on the edge of the table.

They were kissing fiercely, Henry's hands on her back and hers in his hair. She jumped as she felt fabric brush her bare thigh, looking down to find Henry's one knee on the table, his trousers brushing her leg. His hands moved from her back to her shoulders, pushing her on her back as he pulled his other leg onto the table, looming over her on all fours.

And then they were crashing together, mouths and hands everywhere. All civility forgotten, Charlotte was reaching between them, one hand moving beneath Henry's clothing to trail fingers along the muscles of his abdomen, and the other to work at removing his trousers. Henry brushed her aside, making short work of his trousers.

His hand made a short trip from his own pants to her skin, moving to areas that she hardly allowed herself to explore; areas that belonged seemingly more to him than to her. Forgetting about anything else, she dug her fingers into his back, clinging to him as he touched her. She was unable to keep contact with his mouth and turned her head to the side, twitching and moaning in a very un-ladylike manner. His name was on her tongue, and hers on his while his hand moved from its endeavors and grasped her hip.

Charlotte couldn't bite her lip hard enough to hold back a cry of inevitable pain and shock. Her head rolled back as far as it could on the wooden bench and she clawed at Henry's back, undoubtedly leaving marks. Breath came in thick waves, but no matter how hard she gasped she couldn't seem to get enough air.

She had no idea how much time passed as they moved together. His mouth was on her neck as he held back grunts and groans and her were eyes heavy lidded as she cried out, unable to stifle her voice. Sweat made her hair stick to her face in clumps and made his clothes seem far too heavy on her skin.

In the mix his mouth found hers and pressed their lips insistently together, swallowing her moans. After a moment he pulled back, mouth brushing.

"I love you, Charlotte," he panted, taking a few breaths between words to get them out properly.

She didn't answer him for a minute, trying to catch her breath and the correct train of thought to respond before a smile tugged at her lips and a laugh escaped on a gasp. "I love you too, Henry." And she returned his kiss.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

"Well, well, well, didn't we have a busy night?"

At first the words and meaning didn't quite click in Charlotte's mind. In fact it took a few moments before anything began to make any sort of sense in her state of half sleep. Awaking slowly she found herself to be achy all over, the surface upon she slept hard and cold, but the body pressed firmly against hers was warm enough that she didn't mind.

Her eyelids fluttered open drowsily and she found herself staring into a pair of mocking blue eyes.

"Will?" Confusion and sleep blurred her thoughts. What was he doing in her bedroom? She put out a hand, palm resting on hard wood. Another moment of puzzlement passed, and then it all fell into place.

She was lying on a table in the laboratory; Henry curled around her back with an arm draped over her scantily clad frame. Horrified and face burning with embarrassment, she tried to pull her thin robe closer to her body; thanking the Angel she wasn't naked.

"What do you want?" She snapped, sitting up so fast her head spun.

"What's going on?" Henry asked groggily, tossing an arm over his eyes.

"Well, Tessa was looking for you Charlotte, so I decided to come down here to see if I could find you." He stooped down to pick something off of the floor. "Should I tell her you are busy fulfilling your wifely duties and are currently in the throws of passion and cannot be bothered?" He held up her abandoned slip, hanging delicately off of his forefinger, a wide and devilish grin spread across his face. He had no right to touch her clothing in such a manner, but telling him off for it would do her no more good than if she simply started meowing at him.

Charlotte wondered momentarily if it was possible to die from embarrassment. Why couldn't it have been anyone other than Will? Of course, the initial humiliation would have been just as bad had it been Jem, Tessa, Jessamine or Sophie, but it would have eventually blown over, and it would have been a private matter. Now everyone was certain to hear of her and Henry's escapades in the laboratory, and Will was never going to let go of it.

"Tell her I will be with her shortly," Charlotte managed through her embarrassment with as much dignity as she could muster.

Will smirked again before letting her undergarment slip between his fingers and pool on the ground as it had been. "I'll let her know." He turned heel to leave, looking far too pleased with himself for Charlotte's personal health. "Didn't know you had it in you Henry," he called over his shoulder before disappearing around the door.

Charlotte moaned in shame, burying her face in her hands before sparing a glance at Henry. His grin was wide and lazy, obviously content.

"What are you so smug about?" She snapped.

His grin didn't waver, but he pulled it in as if a bit sheepish again. He leaned forward, moving to sit up behind her. "Had a good night," he whispered against her cheek before pressing a quick kiss to the area.

She blushed and couldn't stop the grin that threatened her sour disposition.

"Didn't you?"

Beside her leg she saw it for the first time since awakening, the metal rose. Instantly her fingers were reaching out for it, grasping the cold metal. "Perhaps," she obliged with a smile at the flower.

He kissed her again on the temple. "I love you, Charlotte. I swear by the Angel I do, and I have never regretted marrying you for one second."

She looked over her shoulder at him, meeting his eye. "I know," she said truthfully. "And I love you too."

Their lips met and stayed that way for a good minute or so before Henry was pulling away. He patted her a bit awkwardly on the shoulder, more like the Henry she was accustomed to. "Ill stand watch by the door, you can change into your nightclothes to go back upstairs." She watched him hop off of the table easily and stride across the room and through the doors Will had just passed.

As soon as he was out of sight, Charlotte looked back to the rose.

She closed and opened it once more each before simply staring at it, running her fingers along the fine metal and admiring the detail. It really was simply exquisite. One of a kind, and made just for her.

She admired it for a minute more and thought that maybe, just maybe, Henry would prefer five minutes with her over a week with a woman of metal.


End file.
